A week had passed since the peanut butter incident, and the silence in the penthouse was starting to grate on Mika’s nerves.
Liam had left that night fuming, sticky, and utterly humiliated. Since then, he hadn’t set foot in the apartment. Whenever Mika invited him over, he offered a string of flimsy excuses-a sudden late-night shoot, a rigorous script-reading session, or a sudden "scalp sensitivity" that required him to stay home.
But Mika wasn’t stupid. She knew her boyfriend. Beneath Liam’s loud, boastful exterior lay an incredibly fragile ego, one that was meticulously maintained by constant praise and spotlight. Seeing Arlen-a man who didn’t even try, who stood in a barren room in an oversized sweater and still possessed an effortless, striking beauty that made Liam look try-hard and artificial-had completely shattered the actor’s confidence. Liam was hiding because his pride couldn’t handle being in the same room as Arlen Adelaide.
And Mika hated Arlen all the more for it.
She sat at the marble kitchen island, aggressively stirring a fresh cup of tea, her fiery red hair tied back in a messy, tense bun. She stared at her phone, which had been silent for hours.
*’It’s his fault,’* she thought, her chest tight with resentment. *’He did this on purpose. He knew exactly how to trigger Liam.’*
The soft, familiar *click* of the guest room door broke the silence.
Arlen emerged, moving like a quiet shadow down the hallway. True to her strict rules, he had spent the last seven days practically invisible. He only left his room to drink water or to walk to the local diner for his meals. Right now, he was carrying a simple tumbler, heading toward the kitchen sink.
He wore a light gray, oversized long-sleeve shirt today, the sleeves swallowing his hands so that only his fingertips peeked out. His dark hair was slightly messy, but he still looked like a flawless, quiet watercolor painting.
Mika’s eyes narrowed as he approached. "You," she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet room.
Arlen stopped. He turned his head slowly, his left eye blinking once as he looked at her. He didn’t look defensive or afraid. He just stood there, waiting.
"Do you know why Liam hasn’t been back here for a week?" Mika demanded, leaning forward on the counter, her posture radiating hostility.
"Is it because of his hair?" Arlen asked softly, his voice airy and completely deadpan. "I told him to use warm water. If he used cold water, the peanut butter becomes very hard to remove. It is like glue."
Mika let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, don’t play dumb, Adelaide. You know exactly what you did. You stood there, looking like... *that*," she gestured vaguely at his face, unable to bring herself to say the word ’beautiful,’ "and you let him spiral. You wanted to make him feel small in my own home."
Arlen tilted his head, his thick bangs shifting slightly. He genuinely did not understand her logic. "I was only standing. I did not do anything to him."
"Stop it!" Mika slammed her hand on the marble counter, making her tea mug rattle. "Stop this ridiculous act! You knew Liam is an actor. You knew his image is everything to him, and you deliberately tried to outshine him with your pathetic, quiet little routine. You’ve kept him away from me for a whole week because his pride is bruised!"
Arlen stood by the sink, the sound of the running water the only thing filling the silence after Mika’s outburst. He turned the tap off with a slow, deliberate click and turned to face her, clutching his water tumbler with both hands. His oversized sleeves were so long that only his fingertips were visible, making him look small and deceptively fragile against the backdrop of the high-end kitchen.
He stared at her for a long moment, his left eye wide and unblinking. He wasn’t processing her anger as an attack; he was processing it as a problem that required a logical solution.
"I am sorry," Arlen said softly. His voice was as light as a breeze, carrying no hint of sarcasm or hidden malice. "I did not mean to make Mr. Liam feel small. I did not know that my presence could cause so much trouble for him."
Mika’s eyes narrowed, her grip on her tea mug tightening until her knuckles turned white. "Don’t ’sorry’ me. You know exactly what you’re doing."
Arlen tilted his head to the side, his thick bangs veiling the right side of his face. He looked genuinely contemplative, as if he were searching his mind for a way to fix the rift he had inadvertently caused.
"If my presence makes him uncomfortable," Arlen began, his tone deadpan and helpful, "I can leave. Whenever you know Mr. Liam is coming to visit, you can tell me. I will go outside. I can walk around the block, or sit on a bench in the park until he is gone. I do not mind."
Mika stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. She had spent the last week preparing for a confrontation, expecting him to fight back or at least show a sliver of the arrogance she was certain he possessed. Instead, he was offering to exile himself into the city streets like a stray dog just to accommodate her boyfriend’s fragile ego.
It was the ultimate act of submission-and to Mika, it was the ultimate insult.
"You’d just... leave?" she repeated, her voice low and dangerous. "You’d wander around outside like a homeless person just so Liam doesn’t have to look at you?"
"Yes," Arlen nodded obediently. "I have a coat. And I like looking at the birds in the park. They are very pleasant. It would be better for everyone if I am not here to drop things on his hair."
Mika felt a vein pulse in her temple. He was doing it again. He was being so perfectly, infuriatingly reasonable that it made her look like a tyrant. If she accepted his offer, she would be the woman who kicked her "fiancé" out into the streets; if she refused, she had to deal with Liam’s insecurity. He had backed her into a corner using nothing but politeness.
"You think you’re so saintly, don’t you?" Mika hissed, standing up from her stool. She marched over to him, her fiery red hair practically glowing under the kitchen lights. She poked a finger into his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his oversized shirt. "You want me to say yes. You want to tell your grandfather that I kicked you out of the house so you could wander the streets. You’re trying to build a case against me!"
Arlen looked down at her finger, then back up at her face. He didn’t move an inch. "I will not tell him. I do not talk to my grandfather very much. He mostly just tells me where to go, and I go there."
He took a small, quiet sip of his water, his expression remaining as blank as a fresh sheet of paper.
"I only want you to be happy with your boyfriend," Arlen added, his voice melodic and sincere. "He seems very important to you."
Mika recoiled as if she had been burned. "Get out," she whispered, her voice trembling with contained rage. "Get back in your room, Adelaide. I can’t even look at you right now."
"Okay," Arlen replied instantly. He gave her a small, polite nod, turned on his heel, and walked back toward the hallway with his water tumbler.
Mika stood alone in her expensive kitchen, her chest heaving. She felt a sudden, sharp urge to throw her tea mug at the wall. He was winning. Without raising his voice, without making a single demand, Arlen Adelaide was dismantling her life, one "obedient" gesture at a time. And the worst part was, she couldn’t even prove he was doing it on purpose.
The heavy click of the guest room door echoed down the hall, sealing Arlen back into his barren sanctuary.
Mika stood frozen in the kitchen, her hands clenched into tight fists. The silence of the penthouse felt heavier now, suffocating her with the realization that she had just been thoroughly outmaneuvered by a man who claimed his only goal was to "watch the birds."
Needing an outlet before she completely lost her mind, Mika snatched her phone off the marble counter and aggressively dialed. It rang twice before a cheerful, slightly amused voice answered.
"Hey, boss! Or should I say, future Mrs. Adelaide?" Carly’s voice giggled through the speaker.
"Shut up, Carly," Mika hissed, pacing back and forth across the polished floor. "I am in no mood. I am living with a literal psychopath."
"Oh, come on. Is the billionaire’s heir still giving you trouble?" Carly asked, her tone shifting from teasing to curious. As Mika’s personal assistant and closest friend, Carly was one of the few who knew the absolute truth about the secret five-month trial. "What did he do now? Did he launch more condiments at your boyfriend’s head?"
"No! It’s worse," Mika whispered fiercely, glancing toward the hallway to ensure Arlen wasn’t lurking. "He’s playing the victim card so hard it’s sickening. Liam hasn’t been here in a week because his pride is in shambles, and do you know what Adelaide just did? He offered to exile himself. He literally offered to wander the streets and sit on a park bench whenever Liam comes over, just so Liam doesn’t have to look at him."